Yes Master
by Farferello-Crawford
Summary: Farferello notices something from watching his teammates. Crawford has a dark desire, Farf lets him indulge in it. S/M, Blood play, cutting, kink. Nothing to graphic though.
1. Chapter 1

Yes, Master  
  
Farferello's POV  
  
Part 1  
  
I was sat in the kitchen, on the kitchen table to be precise, sharpening one of my many knives. It's usually a calming task for me, running it along my newly purchased sharpening stone, making the blade sharp and strong for it's next victim. The feeling of it sliding in easily when piercing through their flesh is almost orgasmic. I didn't think that any of my teammates truly understood what I see in them when it comes to my knives. A brief perversion perhaps of my sick mind. Maybe it was partly true but to me it went deeper.  
  
A knife or a blade, a piece of broken glass even, called to me. Anything that could be taken and used to violently mutilate a body was something of beauty, and maybe in my 'sickness', they captivated me. It fascinated me, how sunlight glinted off the blade, reflecting a variety of rainbow shades as it gleamed, picking up the light, an almost rainbow of death. How the soft slicing motion of training with it sounded, or the metallic, bitter taste whenever I ran my tongue across it, or combining it with the taste of my own blood, or that of my victims. Sometimes my teammates watched in morbid curiosity as I drew it across my own flesh, how drops of crimson dripped from the silver blade when a wound was freshly created. But no matter what they thought, they could never know what it was like to see a knife how I do. How captivated I am when I touch them, the shiver that runs through me as I draw it across my own skin or plunge it into others'. Even through my demented ramblings, I still look at my knife as a child would to a fly caught in spiders' web. The struggle of the fly, capturing the child's attention, the want to ruin the web and free the fly on one side, but the desire to watch the spider capture it's pray and bind it in it's silky thread overpowering, un-resistible. This is how I feel, the desire to touch and be near my knives to overwhelming to dare deny, and until this day as I sit, sharpening the knife, running it smoothly back and forth over the stone did I ever think that someone could share my passion.  
  
~~  
  
As the other members of the household sit down for their breakfast, placing their bowls of cereal, or plates of toast, and cups of coffee down near them to miss me on the table do I realize, that yet again I am being stared at.  
  
The stare wasn't a new thing, I often feel like an exhibit in a zoo, a bug under a glass, or part of a freak show that people could amuse themselves with. I keep my rage barely leashed inside, but this time, the stare wavered, almost shy and strangely innocent. It was a stare that was almost hidden, repressed to not draw attention, though it still caught my gaze, the feel of eyes crawling over my skin, watching me. Looking up, I wasn't that startled to see Crawford staring at me, though the look was somewhat different from his usual scowling glare. It wasn't a stare of anger, that I was sitting on his very expensive coffee table, or sharpening my knife at breakfast, no, this stare was different. It felt invading, almost stealing something precious to me. Catching Crawford's gaze, I smirked as the other went back to reading his paper. When I think about it, the other three seem to let their guard down around me, not when I have a knife in my hand. No, not physically. They are well aware of the damage I can do, with or without one, but mentally.  
  
The others don't think of me as an intellectual threat. I mostly keep quiet, conservative, despite my odd occasions and fits, but no one's perfect. My posture and gaze are only a few things that tell people to keep their distance; one look at my face makes most people run for cover, some stare, and master's look for a pet. I think it's my usual quietness though which is often taken for stupidity, or a small grasp on reality and the world around me, but my eyes, figuratively speaking, are wide open. I'm not off in a fantasyland, killing bunny rabbits and cute kittens to make god suffer. I am watching. Watching the others like rats in a maze, doing the only thing they know to please the organ grinder, whoever he may be. They think they're rebellious but we are all bound to something holding us down in this lifetime. For me it is the great liar. God.  
  
I'm more intelligent than any of them know, or would want to believe. People often fear what they don't know or understand and fear is a heavy emotion, a dangerous one tasting bitter sweet. It makes me happy to know that I can so easily manipulate them into thinking that I am stupid. A walking, fighting zombie with only half a brain cell to keep my heart pumping. I sometimes think that if they believed there was a method to my ways, a plan to my thoughts, they would truly fear me. I let them think that though, I don't mind if they take my occasional rants and killing sprees as stupidity, or a losing grip on what sanity I have left. It's an outlet for all the passion and hate I have, all the feelings that people think are dead, because physically, I feel no pain. It gives me time to think however, time to plan and observe the people around me.  
  
They are the bugs not I.  
  
Now for instance, Schuldig is eating his breakfast, laughing at some comedic strip in the paper as Nagi pouts over his breakfast, being the ever growing, tantrum-throwing teenager he is. But Crawford is my favorite to observe.  
  
As usual, Crawford's demeanor is cool and lofty, totally unapproachable, much like me. There is something about him though that I mentioned before, something dark inside that I have begun to notice, catching his ever- growing stares towards me. Under the hard glare and harsh words, the cool planning and arrogant, anal-retentive aura that follows him lay something else. Something that intrigues me.  
  
It had taken me a long time and many deliberate, yet fun experiments to figure it out. I just have to put my theory into a plan, and the annoying human qualities of the other two will help me, without even knowing it. 


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2  
  
It's quite amusing, watching the others. It's almost as if they don't even know I'm doing it, maybe they think I'm just planning my ways on killing them. I laugh softly, drawing the attention of Nagi as he sits on the sofa next to me, watching some anime about mecha's and outer world trips. like I care about that shit, but it makes him happy and it lets me plot in peace. After breakfast, Crawford went back to his self-made hell. Namely his office, the man really needs to get out more, I sometimes wonder how the fuck he keeps that tan of his. hmm I wonder if it's all over, but I digress.  
  
Soon as breakfast was over, Schuldig left the table and went to his room, I don't know what he does in their all day apart from look out the window and rape people's minds as they walk past, underneath. Twisted fuck. It's amusing to watch him work though sometimes. His tongue sticks out of the corner of his mouth like he's concentrating hard on the world's dumbest question, only to still come up with the wrong answer. Maybe I'm cynical but I don't really care. Looking back over to Nagi I see him emerged back in his show, no longer looking at me. My eye flickers to the screen, brow raising as I watch large robots fight, and break stuff. they call this good television?  
  
What a joke.  
  
They say small things keep stupid people occupied. Nagi isn't stupid, I guess all people have their flaws. Placing my feet back up on the table I begin to go over my plan. I need to get Crawford alone, or with the others. I don't care which as long as he sees me. the plan's screwed if he's held up in that small, tiny room of his, can't even swing a cat in there as they say, but I bet most didn't try it. Crawford bitched for a month about that, I think I ruined his two thousand-dollar leather chair with cat smell. He looks so adorable when angry, his nose wrinkles up and it makes you want to laugh. I bite my tongue though, you just have to listen and nod, and pretend to take notice when he's bitching you out.  
  
Whiny bitch, yet oh so fuckable.  
  
But anyway. my plan's formed in my head, and locked at the back where Schu doesn't tend to go. last time he did, he had a headache for a week, serves him right, I told him not to read my thoughts. I feel my gaze blur a little as I stare at the table. I don't even notice as Schu kicks my feet from it to walk past and sit down between Nagi and I. I hear the boy whine before he moves over. I target them with a glare, and both stop moving, settling back against the plush cushions. It's fun being crazy, people give you a lot of space, try not to piss you off. especially when they know you'll rip their throats out. Schu learnt that once. guaranteed, Crawford saw the event before it happened and had me pinned to the floor as I snapped wildly at the German, but I DID tell him not to touch my knives. No one but me touches them. I don't know how many times I've had to repeat that before.  
  
Schu places his feet up, and I look over at him, his red hair is caught between us, trailing over my bare arm. it looks silky but itches like hell. I couldn't stand long hair, sweaty and itchy and blows in your face, how do you expect to kill well when you're blinded by your own fucking hair? Many times I've been tempted to cut it off, but he or Crawford always catch whiff of my plans and hide all the scissors until I calm down. Usually it's only when they piss me off, like when I want to cut Crawford's cream suit up. Only he could get away with those colours, or Nagi's laptop for example. they really piss me off. Sometimes to the point where I want to leave them a bloody mess, but I guess we're family. a screwed up, crazy Brady Bunch. Amusing, but then again, that show is weirder than we are. No one is that perfect.  
We all have our devices; the things that make us tick. And so far I've worked most of the others' out, I know what buttons to push to get a rise from them. Not smart I guess, pissing off a telekinetic, but it's quite fun being slammed into a wall, only to get up and laugh before walking away. The expression on his face. worth it every time, and still they don't get it, they don't realize what I'm doing, that I'm making them do this stuff, that I'm controlling them.  
  
When Schu's hair finally reaches the end of my nerves, I yank on it sharply and he moves with a yelp.  
  
"What the fuck are you doing!" He yells at me, and moves away further. I give him a look.  
  
/What the fuck do you think? / I smile, sending him the mental thought and he gets up, glaring at me before sitting on the opposite side of Nagi, once again pushing the boy to move and getting a small telekinetic slap for disturbing him again.  
  
I smile slightly; my lips pressed into a grim line as Nagi finally ends up almost pressed against me before he goes back to watching his precious anime. I'm glad Schu moved, the smell of whisky and cigarette smoke, unsettling me, it's disgusting what he puts into his body, though I guess the blood of my victims isn't high up on the good health scale either. We sit watching the program, it's one of his DVD's, something Crawford got him to shut him up for his birthday. I don't think he appreciated the human heart I got him, wrapped in a bow. not if the screaming and hitting me with a photo frame was anything to go by. He yelled and looked disgusted before running into his room. I was kind of hurt, it had taken me hours to hunt the perfect victim, kill him, and then cut it out, I'd even made the ribbon curl up into pretty strands around it, and placed it in a box full of pink tissue paper I'd stolen from somewhere. I thought it was nice, but Crawford locked me up for the night and Schu couldn't stop laughing. I guess chocolate hearts or some other girlie crap would have gone down better. ah well, always next year. Crawford threw the heart out with the trash, I'd love to have known if they found it at the dump, the flies eating off the rotting flesh, hurting god, his own creations living off another, but isn't that what you're suppose to do? Besides, it'd just go to waste otherwise.  
  
~~  
  
After almost two hours of mecha's and subtitles, I have had enough of this anime. Sure I can speak and understand Japanese, but reading English subtitles when you don't catch everything is just annoying. Besides, in the two hours the only thing that's different is a few people died and some started crying.  
  
Hoo-fucking-ray.  
  
I think about going to my room to get away from them, to ignore their presence next to me, listening to them breath, a simple motion of breath entering and leaving their body, contaminating the air. My room is basic though, Spartan. Not enough to hold my attention and cease my ever-growing boredom. A few knives spread here or there, the main ones in a box under the bed. I have a wardrobe with maybe four pieces of clothing, and a small mirror that has protective plastic over it so I can't smash and stab myself with it. I pouted when they took the last one away, so what if I'd been digging my name into my flesh. it was kinda fun. Look at, and cut yourself at the same time. kinda ironic. well, to me. My teammates didn't see it the same way though. Nagi moaned about cleaning the mess up. Schu whined about a poor mirror being broken so he couldn't look at himself, and Crawford. now I think about it, he was watching me with interest as I dug the shard into my flesh once more before he snatched it away, cutting himself slightly. If I'd looked closely then, I would have seen the almost. pleasurable expression on his face. It made my theory more possible. now I had to make it work.  
  
I think about banging my head on the coffee table in front of us, just to while away the time, but Schu's whispering conversation with Nagi catches my ear.  
  
"I can't believe you're going out again".  
  
"Awww, poor chibi, not old enough for clubs yet".  
  
I hear a slight "Oomph" as Nagi hits Schu slightly in the stomach and wonder what else I missed.  
  
"You're going out?"  
  
Schu turns to me blinking, I think he expected to me to be in a daze and to not have heard their conversation.  
  
"Yes I am, tonight I'm going to get some sex, find a nice hot woman. or man and fuck them stupid".  
  
Uh, I needed to know those details; Schu always the one to inform but it'd be good for me. I could put my plan into affect tonight without him getting in the way. Nagi didn't matter; he wouldn't be a problem with what I had planned. I could always use a gag. Mmmm, a gag between those lush, full lips. I phase out a moment, coming round to Schu poking me.  
  
"Why'd you ask? Not like you usually care about my personal life? Or is Farfie offering himself for the night?"  
  
He smiles from over Nagi's shoulder, licking his lips, in what I'd assume a leer. Schuldig, always the slut, never the virgin, sorry sweetheart I have other plans for tonight.  
  
"Just curious, wondering if you'll get a disease tonight".  
  
I smile slightly, the brief baring of my teeth before he snorts.  
  
"I'm always cautious."  
  
Like I believe him? Schu wouldn't know protection if it bit him on the ass and said 'here I am, it's me, FUCKING USE ME'. One time he got crabs and itched his groin area for weeks, refusing to talk about it and hiding in his room. Wasn't so sexy that week smelling of crab cream.  
  
"Sure you are, and I'm always sane".  
  
He smirks at me slowly before laughing.  
  
"Well fuck, it's probably nothing I've never had before".  
  
And with Schu, I don't doubt him.  
  
Nagi screws his face up over our conversation, the boy feeling uncomfortable, maybe jealous, he's yet to get over his crush for that odd little female Tot, what does he see in her? I don't know and I don't wish to, Schu teased him enough about that, mainly by telling the rest of us. that night Crawford gave him a lecture. 'She's our enemy, blah, blah, we have to work with her, no crushes, blah, blah.' Then the idiot gave him the birds and the bee's talk. Nagi's 15, spends his time on the net, I don't think it's just for the missions we do, little hentai.  
  
I also have reason to believe he has a crush on Bombay, the kitten with the darts. To genki for me, never shuts up, but each to there own, maybe if Nagi realized which way he swung he'd go after one.  
  
"Do you have to talk about SEX?"  
  
Schu laughs at him and Nagi grumbles, turning the volume on the TV up by remote.  
  
"It's what I live for Nagi. you know, if you ever want lessons."  
  
Nagi meeps a little, slinking closer to me. Schu doesn't care where he puts it as long as the hole is warm and tight. Fuck, he'd stick it in the door and hump it if he thought it'd give him release. Standing, I leave them both and go to my room, I've finally had enough of them to give into the dullness of my habitat. I'll stay here for now, tidying the few things I have up, though there's not much TO tidy. doesn't hurt to though. I still hear them bickering and can imagine Schu licking Nagi's ear. He does it to piss the boy off, but not much more. I think 15 is even to young for him. though just barely.  
  
Instead I finally leave for my room; waiting until I'm called for lunch or dinner, whichever comes first in this fucked up house. They always call now, if not, I don't eat. Not that I care really, I eat when I want, but today I will go and watch them some more.  
  
Watch my un-knowing prey. 


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3  
  
It's just after seven when one of them decides to find me. For all they know I could be dead, soaked in my own blood, various cuts having helped me bleed myself dry of my lives essence. I'm not sure Crawford's skill would have seen that event, it's almost been on the blink these last few days. Maybe the power is sick of him being such an anal-retentive ass, and decided to let me do what I wanted. Isn't that rich, betrayed by your own power.  
  
It's Nagi who finds me. I'm on my bed staring at the ceiling and counting the cracks when he timidly enters. I think he's afraid of my room, to many memories of myself cutting into my skin, leaving my body a pulpy red goo until he cleans me up. The child is an assassin, yet he hates to see the blood of his own teammate.  
  
"D-dinner's ready".  
  
I stare at the ceiling for a while longer, bathing in the silence and nervous twitching I can see coming from Nagi out the corner of my eye. I think out of them all, he trusts me the least. Maybe it's knowledge; not to judge me as he knows what I'm capable of. Not that I'm saying the others don't, but I think Nagi has an idea that I'm not just about avenging god and killing things or hurting myself. I think he knows there's a plot to my ways, and a hidden intelligence, but he doesn't say anything.  
  
"Farfie?"  
  
He's getting more nervous now, the twitching a lot more pronounced as he hovers in the doorway.  
  
"Coming".  
  
Even though he should have expected it, my voice still startles him and he quickly leaves my room. A little scared lamb, being led to the slaughter. another smile works its way onto my face and I lift myself from the bed. I still hold my knife in my right hand, the little cuts I'd traced into my skin earlier, now gone. Only stained blood marking their passing. The small droplets of blood stain my blue jacket and as I stand I wonder why we, assassins, wear white clothing on missions. Not just because it gets dirty. especially if like me, you're ramming a knife point blank into someone's body, but we, as Schwarz are black, yet we wear white.  
  
This world is fucked up royally if you ask me. Whose idea was it? Crawford's? Essets? Takatori's? Are we supposed to look innocent and virginal? Saintly men, like the white hunters, the kittens? Who by no means are innocent. We both kill men and woman, they maybe more than us. they just hide under the clause that it's for the good of mankind.  
  
Fuck that.  
  
Killing is killing. You stick something through someone, shoot or poison them to extinguish their life and to end their mortal existence. Whether it's good for mankind, or good for business holds no meaning. Death is death.  
Weiss are like us, they just hide behind a fantasy, a fairy tale. but even those are not as innocent as the ones mother's tell their young one's today.  
  
It's a vicious circle, that sometimes-even death can't give you freedom from.  
  
Finally I move to the door and exit my room. When I finally get to the table, Nagi has already got half way through his food whilst Schu pokes at it with a fork.  
  
"This thing looks like it was still running round half hour ago".  
  
Schu smirks as Crawford glares at him, he takes his cooking seriously.  
  
"If you feel you can do better Schuldig, be my guest".  
  
It's a never-ending battle of male dominance between those two. Who's alpha and who's subservient, but neither realize that both don't have what it takes to be alpha. Of course Crawford is the leader and therefore Alpha is assigned to him. but we are hardly his pride, and none of us always do what he tells us to. His control isn't, and could never be that wide spread, no matter how much he likes to believe it.  
  
I join the table and look at the food. I'm not sure what it is, some type of stew I think Crawford had been rambling about the other week. You wouldn't believe he watched cooking shows to get ideas on 'how to keep his boys healthy'. If he wanted to do that, we'd stop being assassins and go live it up in warm, fluffy bouncy rooms where you get three meals a day.  
  
I almost miss the asylum.  
  
Almost.  
  
I finally sit down and start eating. I haven't had anything all day and can't be bothered to make a face, but by everyone's looks, they're surprised. I appear to be normal to them right now; not having to be force- fed some pureed crap, or disgusting baby food. It can really dampen your hunger when you get fed that shit. I can still feel them watching me and grin at them. My teeth are bared and I'm holding a knife. both make Nagi move back a little, and I know he's glad he isn't sitting next to me.  
  
"Mmm yummy". My voice is laced with light sarcasm before I bring the knife to my mouth, swiping my tongue out to lick it. I do this a lot during most meals, but my gaze was directed at Crawford almost and I licked the blade like I would a lover.  
  
Unless I'm seeing things, he squirmed.  
  
I chuckle mentally, keeping my look as innocent as I can get it before I begin eating again. By the time I'm finished the others are blinking at me as I finally swallow the last piece of meat. It was actually a good meal, and the visuals around me were quite fun. Crawford who'd finished, stayed to finish his coffee, and though I kept my eye to my plate, I could easily feel his gaze burning into me whenever I licked my knife clean. I admit I made a show of it, but hey, it's not every night you get such an audience. Only this time I wouldn't let it drop.  
  
"If you don't stop staring I'm gonna cut your eyes out".  
  
I smirk as movement at the table stops and Crawford suddenly looks more flustered than I've even seen him and I could see a distinct flush on his cheeks.  
  
"I'm not staring at you, I'm just wondering how you manage to eat without licking that every five seconds".  
  
He tried to hide his anxiety and almost fear behind his usual cold exterior, the smirk naturally falling into place to hide his little outrage but the damage was done. Nagi gasps a little, looking between us as I smirk at Crawford, and Schu looks almost confused. Placing my elbows on the table I bring my knife up in plain view and direct my gaze to Crawford as I run it across my tongue, the blade slides smoothly over it and a sour taste fills my mouth from my blood. At that moment, Crawford looks like a deer caught in headlights.  
  
"Maybe he wants to touch it Farfie".  
  
Schu starts laughing, trust him to get the ball rolling. Crawford frowned and looked a cross between pissed off, annoyed, and embarrassed. If you hadn't been looking as close as I was you wouldn't have noticed the tiny slip of the mask he wears.  
  
"Shut up Schuldig, before I make you".  
  
Schuldig for once took notice of Crawford's tone, only because he wanted to go out tonight.  
  
"You're no fun to tease".  
  
Schu leaves the table with a pout and Nagi looks between both Crawford and I before soon looking back at the table. I ignore him for now and raise my gaze to meet Crawford's, almost challenging him to deny he was staring at me, that he was almost entranced by how the blade ran across my flesh.  
  
"I'm going to my office".  
  
He quickly leaves the table and I watch him go with a smirk. He is so easy to tease, and now he was more embarrassed, now I'd caught him in front of the others. His pride was hurt and I couldn't help laughing.  
  
"I'm going to do my homework".  
  
I barely caught Nagi's soft-spoken words as he got up and left the table. The boy looked creeped out and didn't want to be in the same room as me. I couldn't blame him. Instead I watched him go, ignoring the plates still left on the table and returned to the main room and clicked the television on, having it finally to myself.  
  
"Soon, Crawford".  
  
It's barely a whisper, but I smile firmly, placing my knife back into its leather sheath. I just had until Schu left, and then I'd go visit my blushing American.  
  
How precious. 


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4  
  
It's just after nine when I hear the front door close. I look up from watching television and realize Schuldig has finally left. I myself haven't moved once, save to get a soda or something. I return to flipping through the channels, setting the station on some B-list horror movie that's just started. The thing about these horrors is that most are ridiculous. Either the people doing them are rubbish actors or the plot is so irritating, it draws you away from the gore that is currently happening. My worse annoyance is females.  
  
They have their place in everything sure, but it's how they're written. Unless they are the heroines of the show they either do the most stupid ass things ever or get themselves killed for fucking the bad guy, or waiting around for the bad guy to kill them. You don't need a lot of brains, but if there is a murderer, or monster, or something following you, you do NOT walk up a flight of stairs, or into an alley, cause how the fuck do you get out of the house when you're on the top floor? Or out of a usually one way alley? Hello! You have brains people, use them. And for one thing, if I see another idiot investigate a noise, which turns out to be a pack of zombies, a blood sucking vampire, or a crazy killer, self not included, it will be to soon.  
  
Be fucking original!  
  
If I wasn't so bored, and there was nothing else on but porn or sport I'd watch something else, but this will suit me for now. Turning my gaze back to the television I figure out first glance it's a zombie film, and bright red blood like paint isn't convincing and if I see another vampire with slicked back hair, red eyes and the come hither look, I'll cut my other eye out.  
  
It's relatively peaceful and for once now. Mainly because I'm not being irritated. Schu's out, so he can't piss me off and get me in trouble. Nagi's in his room on the pretense of homework. Looking up porn is probably closer; he's at that age now. Sighing a bit I clasp my hands over my chest, I think I'll wait just a little longer and then go see Crawford. Another smirk forms on my face as I waste away the time, waiting for the opportunity to seize the day and all that shit.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
I let maybe an hour go past and finally fed up of the horror movie I'm watching I decide that the time is right. As I make my way towards Crawford's office I wonder if his visions have started working, and he's waiting with a gun to blow my brains out. I'm glad the floorboards don't squeak and as I draw closer I pull my knife from its sheath and finally press my hand to the doorknob. I hold my breath and turn it, the door thankfully opens silently with the softest gush of air showing it's passing. You could be the stealthiest person in the world but no way can you stop a door from squeaking and giving you away. I have to be glad that Crawford's so precise in his daily dealings and over usage of his room to keep everything in pristine order. No squeaks, no rust.works for me.  
  
I push the door open just enough so I can slip in, now I see the inside of his office I worry that he may notice my reflection in the computer screen. It's not turned on which could make me more noticeable in the black screen, but as I draw closer he makes no notion of seeing me, even when I'm stood behind him. I realize he's reading the paper. well, was, would be closer. At the moment his glasses are on the table and the paper is poised on his chest, one hand rubbing the bridge of his nose. I wonder if he just had a vision, he seems to do that a lot when he gets them but maybe it's eye strain, he doesn't appear to be worried or going for his gun and so far I smell no fear. I move back just a little for what I'm about to do.  
  
Bringing the knife to my mouth, I lick across the sharp side before clutching it between my teeth. I take in a breath and inch closer just a little, but leave enough space for contact. Placing my hands on either side of his chair I hear his startled gasp before I spin the chair round so he finally faces me. His eyes shot open and he looked startled, fear seeping into him as he takes in my appearance, knife in my mouth and a sadistic gleam in my eye.  
  
"Farf."  
  
I cut off his words by yanking him up by the hair sharply and pull him close, my fingers curling into his dark locks. Nose to nose he stares at me, to shocked that I would do this before I slam him into the wall. He screeches a little as he gets crushed, my body pressing him tight and finally he struggles against me. Only then, I take my knife from my mouth, yank his head back by my grasp in his hair and press the blade tightly against his throat.  
  
"Farferello..."  
  
It's choked out and he has to finish his sentence prematurely because his speech makes the knife press deeper into his skin, almost cutting. Keeping the knife against his throat Crawford can't move, I know he could call out for Nagi but his pride wouldn't allow him to let the boy see him in this position. No, only I will have the pleasure of seeing him so submissive. Moving round I push him against the wall, his back flat, and I bring the knife off his flesh just barely so I don't slit his throat with the movement. His death is not what I want. This brief time gives him a moment to talk.  
  
"What the fuck are you doing! Let me go now or."  
  
"Or what Brad? You gonna lock me up? Tell me I'm a bad boy and not let me out to play?"  
  
He glares at me but keeps quiet. I see a lot of potential in him, already working his role without me even saying so. He knows when to keep quiet and be good, especially with his life in the hands of a madman. I take in his widened eyes and lean closer, pressing my body against his. He doesn't know what to think, he's unsure whether I'm going to kill him or not, he just waits, afraid. Not once have I seen the American like this.  
  
"I have this theory Crawford. you're going to indulge my questions".  
  
He stares at me and I think he'd do anything right now.  
  
"You like to watch me don't you? Like to watch me lick my knives. you're jealous aren't you? That it's not you I dig the knife into, that's it's not your flesh I cut deeply, and let the blood flow from".  
  
His smirk returns, his self-confident aura flowing, but even that can't hide his fear. I know he's putting on this pretense to try and seem his usual self.  
  
"You don't know what you're talking about and when I get out of this."  
  
I push the knife tighter to his throat, breaking the top layer of skin and he whimpers slightly, his mask cracking again, one strike at a time.  
  
"Let me go".  
  
It's whispered softly and I press the knife deeper, threatening to draw more drops of his sweet blood.  
  
"Please."  
  
His voice cracks slightly and his eyes close once before fluttering open. I find myself lost in their chocolate depths, without the glasses he looks much younger, and less the cynical leader.  
  
"Is that what you truly want Crawford?"  
  
He gulps slightly, a whispered "yes" emerging from his dried lips and his tongue flickers out to wet them. Once again I feel myself drawn from what I'm doing, until I mentally snap myself from it, his whimpers endearing, oddly erotic. The way his tongue caresses his reddened lips makes me want to steal a kiss, to taste him. To bite down and draw his blood from him.  
  
"You're sure about that?"  
  
His eyes take on a slight wetness; I feel his barriers cracking like thin ice against my will.  
  
"Yes. Farferello, please."  
  
It's desperate now, he knows he's loosing control. I smile softly and lean in until my nose is pressed against his and he can do nothing but openly staring at me. He must be frightened, my disfigured face so close to his own flawless skin, I wonder if his body is like that, and even if it is I know it won't be for long, his will and pride failing him against me.  
  
"I can't do that Brad, and you know you don't want me to".  
  
I do however, take the blade from his throat and his hand quickly moves to it, holding it protectively. However he makes no move to leave me, to try and escape.  
  
"What is wrong with you!"  
  
He's almost hysterical and he winces a little at his shout, worried I'll pounce and this time slit his throat, or behead him.  
  
"Nothing. I'm not the one getting aroused by a knife".  
  
I smirk and his face slips with another mask, one of denial.  
  
"Bull shit! Get out of my office!"  
  
His voice is still quiet, raised only slightly, with less crisp and coldness; he sounds like a scared little child. He moves away and I let him, let him think I've given up before pulling him against me, his back to my chest and my free arm tight around his waist, holding him to me.  
  
"Don't turn your back on me!" I order.  
  
I press the tip of the knife against his throat again, drawing another drop of blood before I trace the red tip of my blade over his shirt, staining it red, as I move the blade down. He's to scared to struggle again, he knows I mean business. He would rather do as I please and hopefully come out of it alive. Slowly I let the blade descend until it's pressed snug against the front of his trousers, tracing gently over the growing erection, which I'd felt pressed against me earlier.  
  
"You're not aroused? So, is this where you keep your gun?"  
  
I laugh, and he whimpers softly, trying to pull away from the knife but only grinds himself further against me. I lean over him to watch what I do, biting back a short moan, and he shudders, my breath hot against his neck.  
  
"Don't.you don't understand".  
  
I don't listen and press the knife firmly against the bulge, tracing the length slowly and relish in his keening whimpers. I do understand, I understand completely what this admiration of my knife is. this want.  
He whines softly as I press the knife harder against his flesh though not cutting. only when his whines grow louder do I finally push him away and drop him to the floor.  
  
"What."  
  
He looks up from the floor, almost hurt that I stopped playing with him. Before that happened, I would state some rules. If he wanted this, wanted me, he would follow them.  
  
"Midnight you come to my room. If you want this you do what I tell you to. You will belong to me and no one else, if you can't follow this I will forget this night and nothing more will be said. Choice is yours Bradley".  
  
I don't look at him as I head to the door, and the sign that he's not shooting me means he's thinking about it, or is to stunned to right now. I know I could be treading on deadly ground, he is still leader and I must still follow him, but if he wants his little indulgence he will follow my rules for once.  
  
"Midnight Crawford".  
  
I wait a moment before opening the door and I disappear after closing it just as silently as I'd entered. I take a detour to my room, licking my knife clean of his sweet blood. All I had to do now was wait.  
  
One way or the other, by midnight I'd have my answer. 


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5  
  
I'd stayed in my room since my encounter with Crawford. It was quiet in the apartment; I could hear the sound of key's clattering as they were pressed, coming from Nagi's room. The sound had lulled me to sleep at least twice in my wait.  
  
Surprisingly, I hadn't heard or seen Crawford since I'd left him hard and wanting on the floor in his room. He had sought no retribution for what I had done to him, which led me to believe he would be coming to my room. I don't think he truly understands what this will mean between us, and I'm not totally sure of my own feelings. I don't love him, I doubt I ever could. When I see him, there's hatred for how he treats me like an animal, how he locks me up and sedates me, and also thanks that I was given this chance to revenge god, to be free from the asylums that tried to change what I am. I suppose what Crawford had done hadn't been any worse than what the guards at the asylum had. I did have freedom, the chance to extract revenge, and although Crawford punished me, he never threatened to kill me or send me back.  
  
I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. A madman bent on revenge with no brain? I know that tonight I've proven that theory wrong, my plan executed more punctually than any of his have truly been. I have this urge, this need to know what it means to him, what giving into me, the psychotic killer, blood tainting my hands means mentally to him. I have to know what he feels when he sees that his life and body are truly in my hands, bending at my will.  
  
~~~~~  
  
The time comes and goes, and as it gets closer to twelve I arrange myself on the bed so that when he enters, I am the first thing he sees. My shirt is off, I don't wish to spill any blood on it, and I wear leather pants, so that I will be able to wipe them clean. I know they will be tight, but its all for affect when he first looks at me, it makes me appear more his master, than a not so loyal colleague.  
  
I'd taken a knife out of one of my more special cases for this night. It was something Crawford had given me as a Christmas present, though he knows I don't celebrate that putrid holiday. It was very special, never before used. Hand crafted with a mixture of metal and steel. I sharpen it every week, adoring the feel of the ivory handle, carved with extricate patterns and designs. I believe now that he'd brought it un-consciously, an outcry against his mind, trying to contain his desire, his want for me to cut him. Of course he brought everyone else presents, a first I think. It was the first holiday we had, all of us together without a mission. He'd brought Nagi games for his computer. Despite Nagi being Japanese he was still thrilled about it and the holiday cheer. I remember it clearly now.  
  
Schu had gotten drunk on the fine whiskey Crawford had brought him after a somewhat traditional dinner, crackers and party hats included. After that I'd snuck out, finding some people leaving a late mass at church to massacre. I came home with bloodied hands; god had cried so much that day.  
  
After sorting everything out, ties to hold Crawford down, a makeshift gag if he screamed to loud and my knife sharp as when it was first given to me, I lay down on the bed, staring up at the cracked tiles that lined the ceiling. A lamp next to me was on just besides the bed. It was a wall light, screwed in so I couldn't rip it out and kill myself with it, the switch to the side allowing me to brighten or dim it. I twirled the knife between my fingers, the motion almost soothing as I waited. I'd never been a patient man, and Crawford was sure taking his time. I moved the knife to my right hand and began to twirl, the blade moving and swirling, never cutting me as I did so, even when I took my gaze from it and directed it at the door. I knew what effect it would have on Crawford when he walked in and saw me with it, saw me moving and caressing it like a lover, like how he so thoroughly wished to be touched.  
  
About ten minutes later, just when I was starting to grow impatient, starting to believe that Crawford had decided against it, I heard a soft sound at the door. I'd almost missed it, as if the knock hadn't meant to sound intruding. Of course it was though, Crawford has intruded on my life since day one, and especially making me so inclined to watch his every move. I waited, looking at the door and it opened just a little. Crawford peeked in, looking somewhat reluctant and uncertain on whether he wanted to enter the lions den. Everyone was scared of my room, and he was no different.  
  
Smirking, I continued to twirl my knife, my other armed tucked underneath my head. I looked relaxed, as if I didn't care about what he would do but I secretly urged him inside, trying to deny that I wanted to do this as much as he wanted me to. His skin called to me, I wanted to see and taste his sweet blood, to see my knife carve into his flesh and make a pattern, forever marking him as mine. Crawford's eyes widened a little, and he cautiously slipped into the room.  
  
"Farferello?" He shut the door softly behind him, staring over at me. His voice was soft, almost cracking like it was before. He was bathed in shadows as he nervously waited just inside of the room, hovering at the door as if he would bolt. The lamplight shone in his eyes, though his face was steeped in shadow, he looked ravishing, vulnerable. Something I craved, wanting to touch, to hold his pride in my hands with the ability to crush and also nurture. I propped myself up on one elbow, my eye raking over him. He seemed a little startled by my movement and the glow in his eyes made him look more like a deer caught in headlights, to scared to flee.  
  
"Come here." I quit twirling my knife, and beckoned to him with it. I watched him hesitate for a moment before he moved closer, finally coming to stand in front of me, looking down at me with fearful eyes. I traced the knife over his shirt and he caught a whimper between his lips, digging pearly white teeth in so hard that I thought he might draw blood. As I stood, slowly taking the knife from his body, he backed away slightly, waiting for what I would order next.  
  
"Do you agree to my conditions Crawford?" My voice was low, next to his ear, as I moved behind him. Although I was shorter, I was still able to reach him there, viscously nipping his ear before moving away again, delighting in his pained whimper.  
  
"I. it's not that easy". His voice was low, the barest whimper. His answer was not what I wanted and he knew he'd said wrong when I spun him around to grip him by the throat, not squeezing though, but bringing him closer.  
  
"Isn't it? You want my touch, you want my knife breaking open your skin, the pleasure and pain that comes with it, wanting me doing it. Don't you?"  
  
I stared into his eyes and he had trouble keeping his own locked with mine, the single orb glowering brightly.  
  
"Yes. yes but."  
  
I cut him off, pressing the tip of my blade against his chest. I smiled coolly, his eyes raking over my look; it must have been terrifying to him.  
  
"If you can't take the rules get out of my room. You are mine in here. Mine to play with, mine to fuck and treat how I like. You are my slave, my servant and anything else I fucking want you to be. For that? For that, I will give you everything you desire, everything you've been denying you need and have wanted for so long".  
  
He watched me speak, my voice alluring and somehow reassuring. He still looked ready to bolt, I knew it would be hard for him. I didn't want to break him, never that, I liked his spunkiness, but I wanted his obedience. I was fine to change roles out of this room though.  
  
"Decide now. In here you are mine, out there I am your dog, your pet as always, but here you are mine. And this."  
  
I grabbed him by the crotch, and by the buttocks, my knife resting in my hand, not scratching him. I wanted him mine and mine only. He wasn't anyone's to share unless I said so, I wanted to own his body, if at least whilst we played.  
  
"Your body is mine Crawford. If I see you with anyone else once we start this without my permission, its over. Don't cross me because I will know". I let him go, leaving him to pant slightly. I'd felt his cock swell a little as I'd grabbed him, it appeared he liked it rough.  
  
Turning my back on him I waited, waited for the words I wanted to hear. We stood for a moment before I heard his words, and I felt myself harden at them.  
  
"I belong to you. master".  
  
I know it took a lot for him to say those words, especially to call me master, his will is to strong to do that willingly but I know he wants this.  
  
I wanted to show him that there is more to always being in control, that to give in, to let someone take the reins if just for a while can be more than he ever imagined.  
  
When I turned around, he took in my smirk, full and conniving. One used to worry and to fear, and yet Crawford didn't appear to be scared, he'd resigned to his fate.  
  
"Strip". I ordered, and I waited for what he would do. 


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6  
  
He stared at me for a moment as my command took time to breach his aroused mind. The moment it did, his expression changed. Brown eyes widened a little and his shoulders shook. He must have felt my dissatisfaction at taking his time to answer my command as he slowly began to un-button his shirt before I'd even voiced my annoyance.  
  
He went slowly, watching my face and reaction as his shirt was slowly opened, revealing silky brown skin, which I later found was completely clear of blemishes, not even a scratch. I stopped his hands as they moved for his buckle with my own. I towered over him in his slightly stooped position, looking down at him and couldn't resist a touch. The tips of my fingers swept across his collarbone, and he bit his bottom lip to hold in a small surprised gasp, looking at me fearful that his sounds had angered me.  
  
I had full intention of making him scream by the end of the night.  
  
"Your skin is clear, not even a mark or cut. If you find pleasure in a blade, why do you not cut yourself?"  
  
I lifted his chin with the blunt side of my knife so he would look at me, having no-where to turn from the pressure on his chin. As his gaze met mine, I could feel a sense of shyness and distaste radiating from him.  
  
"I thought that my want was wrong. It didn't fit into my life. I. I couldn't show that weakness, that desire. It felt wrong to want it so badly".  
  
I could understand that. My knife called to me as the desire to be cut called to him. Only he'd learnt how to repress it all these years. Though then again, I didn't know how long he had longed for this touch. Of mine, or of anyone else's.  
  
"Desire is natural Crawford. Weakness is a part of life, to open your arms to it, to let it in and happen, can be most pleasurable. It's not such a weakness when you embrace it".  
  
I knew that was happening now, that he was finally allowing himself to give in, but to give that small segment of power to me. Someone whom he'd treated badly before, like a dog, a puppet bending to its masters' will. I knew that the fight he'd had within himself had been greater than I'd thought and it pleased me. Pleased me to know I have such power over this man. To have the necessary means to kill him in a second, to fuck him, to take him as mine and he would agree to it, was overwhelming.  
  
He remained quiet as I spoke; I moved my knife down his throat lightly, moving it across his chest to slide over a nipple. I enjoyed his gasp of surprise and pleasure. It empowered me. That I, and only I had seen him like this. So wanton and free.  
  
"How long have you wanted this for, to desire it so bad?"  
  
My question seemed to set him back, his eyes flickered closed and a soft moan left his mouth, as I pressed the blunt side of my knife firmly against a hardening nipple.  
  
"I don't know. Before Schwarz. in Rosenkreuz, but I couldn't let anyone know. I couldn't let them have that extra thing over me".  
  
If what I'd been told of Rosenkreuz was true, they would have used this mean of pleasure against him, taking it away from him so he would never wish to feel it, so I wouldn't have this moment. I was glad he'd not let anyone know, I wouldn't let them take him from me now. He belonged to me. His body called out to mine, his mind cried for the release I could give him, and he thought that he could so easily hide his reactions to the small ways I moved my knife against his warm flesh.  
  
He was starting to fidget as he stood under my watchful gaze. His body seemed to flush with arousal and I could already see the bulge growing beneath his slacks.  
  
"Finish stripping. And then. display yourself for me".  
  
I knew he didn't know what I meant by that, but I wanted him to use his initiative. I wouldn't condemn him for not knowing how to please me just yet. Shaky hands moved back to his buckle, and he slowly removed his belt, un-buttoning his trousers after a false start, and slowly un-zipped himself. He looked delicious in his shy, innocent movements, anyone would think it virginal. I kept my gaze on him as he shook off his trousers, folding them neatly before his hands moved to his boxers, wavering a little before he grasped and pulled them down, his cheeks blooming to a soft crimson.  
  
He tried to hide his aroused state, until a click of my teeth made him look at me. He seemed to remember what I'd said, that I'd wanted him to display himself, and that certainly didn't mean I wished for him to hide his arousal, that only I had caused. Moving apart his legs slightly, he placed his hands to his side and stood there, waiting for my words or touch. A next command that he should follow.  
  
"I think that I like you in this manner Crawford. Your clothing hides the hard definitions of your body, the pert buttocks and generous arousal".  
  
I stopped walking around him, and after giving him the once over again, moved forwards, invading his personal space in which he tried hard to not back away, to add some distance between ourselves.  
  
"What do you want Crawford? Tell me".  
  
He considered this, his cheeks fading to their natural colour as I held his gaze. White teeth captured his bottom lip as he worried over what he should say. I'd never seen him like this. So vulnerable, and hot. It turned me on immensely and I made a show of adjusting myself in my now too tight trousers. His gaze was following the movement of my hand.  
  
"I. I want you, to touch me. With the k-knife".  
  
His stutter was cute, and I was glad he'd had that bit of will power to answer me. To have someone completely under my control with no fight in them was no fun at all.  
  
"If that is what you want, that is what you shall get. Tonight is yours. But just for tonight. Beyond this, I will do what I wish with you".  
  
Shuddering again, I watched him nod his head a little, his eyes returning to my face.  
  
"Are you sure? Do you really want to do this?"  
  
I smirked at his soft whisper, almost missing it as I pondered what to do to him first.  
  
"I've cut open more people than you've had hot dinners. Carving a design into your skin isn't going to bother me. In fact it will bring me great pleasure."  
  
His whole body shuddered at my admission, and he looked nervous and uncertain once again. I wanted him relaxed, not tightly strong as if he would snap, and I brought the tip of my knife to touch his closed mouth, resting on the soft tissue of his lips.  
  
"You find my knife arousing? It's the one you brought me, did you have it in mind for this when you did?"  
  
I didn't expect an answer, but his brief nod of acquisition was a surprise to me.  
  
"Yes. but I could never ask you. I thought you would tell the others".  
  
It was strange sight to see. To have the man who'd created a living hell for me, who'd killed without thought just as I have, to be so anxious and naked, and worried in front of me.  
  
"I guess I read your mind". I chuckled a little at his annoyed look; the reference to Schuldig probably unwanted right then. I moved my knife further away from him after licking the small drop of blood from his mouth, from where he'd spoken and started trailing it over his skin.  
  
"Where should I mark you hmm?"  
  
He didn't answer me, just stood their waiting as my knife moved down his stomach and over his hips. His breath caught a little as I passed over his now erect cock, and let it trail over his buttocks and thighs.  
  
"On your knees".  
  
I moved over to the bed and placed the knife down carefully before fetching the straps I had for his wrists. Quietly I watched him at war with him self, on whether or not he should obey. The need for this, for me to cut him though seemed to win out and he moved to his knees.  
  
"Arms out, I want you to place them around the post of my bed".  
  
He did so without thought this time, but the speed up of his breath let me knew he was worried, that now it was all going into affect as I tied his wrists. Tight enough, but not so tight that he would cut himself. That was my job tonight. Stepping back I looked at him. He looked so needy. His legs were spread a little, his arms were tied, and his face flushed. His hardened cock stood out proudly, glistening in the soft light, and as my gaze lingered, he looked away from me, towards the bed. Embarrassed at his need, he didn't look at me again until I came closer, kneeling behind him, and resting a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"So beautiful like this Bradley". He whimpered a little and bowed his head slightly, and I heard the soft "Thank you, Master", come from his trembling lips. I licked a thin bead of sweat from his neck and he whimpered again, straining for my touch. In the years I'd known him, I had never seen him with a lover, and thought myself lucky that he was giving into me. A man who could use this against him.  
  
Kneeling behind him, I let my fingers trail to a nipple and pinched hard. His soft moan made me harden more as I leant close to his ear. My other arm was slung around his waist, the knife resting near his thigh.  
  
"Do you truly want my knife Bradley?"  
  
He nodded again, quickly as if I would refuse him his pleasure. I brought the arm around his face upwards until the knife was next to his face.  
  
"Then kiss it. Before I put it to your flesh and coat it with your blood, kiss it. Show it the respect it deserves".  
  
I heard him gasp again before I felt weight against the knife. His head bowed as he did as I commanded. I moved a little to watch him; even staring as the tip of his tongue caressed the blunt edge of the blade along with his lips. I found myself entranced by it, wondering if this was what he saw every time I did it in front of him. I soon lifted the blade from his lips, and couldn't hold an amazed little sound as he moaned at the loss of it against his mouth.  
  
"If you please me, I'll let you play later".  
  
He kept quiet after that as I brought it back around him and stood, once again looking over my bound captive.  
  
I moved closer again, lifting my knife to let it rest against the skin on his back. My other hand pressed against Crawford, hoping to stop any movement that I would cause from him, to disrupt what I wished to carve. I wanted to own him and I wanted everyone who ever saw his back after this to know. As I drew the knife very lightly over his skin, marking out in my mind what I wished to do, I could sense Crawford's anxiety, his breath was coming faster, and I could feel the tension in the muscles beneath my fingers.  
  
"Be still".  
  
I knew the command wasn't easy to follow as I pressed the knife into his flesh. I heard his sharp, slightly pained, pleasurable gasp, as I cut a thin line straight down, the blood already beginning to rise to the top of the wound. I continued with the downward movement and was glad I'd tied the American to the bed, his writhing was enough to throw me off. I was worried he'd decided this wasn't what he wanted. Although I'd said there would be no stopping, I truly wanted this consensual. I knew what power I would have over him if we continued. I was going to ask him if he wished to stop when he moaned, and a brief look over his shoulder let me knew that he was enjoying this.  
  
Watching the blood trickle from the wound, I moved the blade up to the top and cut another line across his shoulder blade before moving to the next line that made up the 'F'. I was going to mark him as mine with my name and everyone would know that he was mine. My property, mine to cherish and hurt. As the blood washed over his skin, I bent my head to lick the blood from the wound. It was tangy and sharp, thick and full and I knew that I'd have to taste more before the night was through.  
  
For now, I picked up the battle from the side of the bed, un-corking the whiskey and washing it over his skin, drawing the blood away as he cried out and whimpered, his body moving from the burn.  
  
"Do you wish to continue?"  
  
I licked his skin free again, of whiskey and blood and he nodded.  
  
"Please master". The passion in his voice, brimming with need and fear, was enough to drive me on in my task.  
  
"Everyone shall know you are mine, my sweet".  
  
~Owari~ 


End file.
